


i know the sound (of your heart)

by ranchboiii



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anal Sex, Chubby Shiro, Future Fic, M/M, they are RETIRED ! let them rest, this is terribly self indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-07-28 00:58:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16230899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ranchboiii/pseuds/ranchboiii
Summary: Now that he's retired, Shiro has put on a little weight. Keith doesn't mind one bit.





	i know the sound (of your heart)

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [@domxto](https://twitter.com/domxto)'s absolutely incredible [short comic](https://twitter.com/domxto/status/1046531916239982592) on the same subject. That shit is my jam.

It was after they saved the universe.

Earth was thriving as the lighthouse to the storm of the multiverse. Its denizens were growing into their roles as shepherds of peace, exploring what intergalactic diplomacy meant in theory and in practice. New trade deals were established. Like the ashes of a phoenix, the rubble and ruins of Earth became beds for growth, rebirth, new starts.

Shiro was proud to witness most of this from a respectable distance. After all, he was retired now.

In a perfect world, he wouldn’t have gone quietly into retirement. In a perfect world, the universe wouldn’t have demanded that he put his body, his soul, his life on the line countless times. In a perfect world, everything would’ve been a lot less messy.

But the world they lived in wasn’t perfect. However, things had come a long way from the dry, acrid moment after the last battle when hope hung in the air like a tattered flag, waiting for the dust to settle into victory. The nightmares of the past weren’t gone, but they also no longer lingered like unwelcome guests.

Now, Shiro felt free. Even more than that, he felt loved. Which is why he didn’t freak out when he noticed the changes in his mindset, or his body, even affecting his sense of humor. He saw it as a gradual way of accepting that he was now at a point where he probably would live past thirty, or that he wouldn’t have to worry about an alien invasion on his home planet. Not that he didn’t worry about those things at all anymore; there were simply more support beams in place to indicate that they were the truth.

Either way, Shiro was happy. And after Kerberos, that was more than he ever could have asked for.

Shiro was happily thinking about how lucky he felt while sitting on the couch, reading a book and drinking a mug of hot soy milk with honey. It was a chilly October morning, and ever since he and Keith had moved up further north, Shiro found a hot cup of something was the best way to get him out of bed and starting his day. Listening to the quiet background noise of Keith getting ready in the bathroom and thinking hard about his happiness, he set the book down, too distracted. In doing so, he realized he was rather cold, so he reached over to where they kept a basket of fluffy blankets between the couch and the recliner. 

Leaning back up, Shiro noticed that his shirt rode up to expose the soft part of the belly he had accrued in the past few years. When he tried to tug it down, the shirt rolled right back up. 

For a moment, something in him threatened to panic. So he did a full body scan to verify if it was necessary. But the truth was that he felt great. His body didn’t ache, there was no familiar twinge in his back. Even his neck, often tight from constantly looking at tablets, was fine. The truth of it was that his stomach, once flat with obliques and abdominals carved from countless battles and fights, was round and soft, and an excellent metaphor for how Shiro had come to feel these past few years.

The only real downside was that he needed to change shirts. 

“Hey there, big guy,” Keith said, breaking his train of thought and taking a seat next to him on the couch. Shiro left a hand on his stomach in thought but craned his neck to kiss Keith soundly, squarely, and sweetly on his soft lips. 

“Keith,” Shiro held his breath. “Good morning.”

“Something wrong?” Keith asked, perceptive as ever.

“No. I mean, I don’t think so,” Shiro replied, his mouth drawing into what was probably a pout. Keith leaned closer, his eyes raking over Shiro’s body language. He said nothing in response, waiting for Shiro to continue. “I just,” Shiro said, finally exhaling. Why was this so hard to talk about? “This,” he gave up, relying on the eloquent power of sweeping gestures instead. He and Keith both looked pointedly at his stomach, which sat under scrutiny with such patience and innocence that there was simply no way it could ever offend.

“What about it? Does it bother you?” Keith asked.

“No,” Shiro said honestly. More quietly, he added, “I just don’t want it to bother you.”

“This,” Keith said, affectionately grabbing a hold of the heaviest part of Shiro’s stomach, right where it blithely hung over the elastic of his sweatpants. “Could never bother me.” To prove his point, Keith weaseled his way into Shiro’s lap and sat there, pointedly placing both his hands on the roundest place of Shiro’s contention. “You’re perfect as you are Shiro,” Keith sighed, peppering kisses along the stripe where his jaw arched into high cheekbones. “Do really want to know what I think about it?” 

Shiro gulped, wrapping his hands around Keith’s unchanged, still-slim waist and squeezing with the provocation. “What?”

“I think it’s cute,” Keith said, giving a little roll of his hips, consequently bumping into Shiro’s belly on the way there. “You look good with a little extra weight on you.You look happy, Shiro.”

“I feel happy,” Shiro confessed, leaning his head against Keith’s chest, indulgent in his nuzzling. “I love you,” he pulled back so he could meet Keith’s eyes.

“I love you,” Keith cupped Shiro’s face in his hands. “Every part of you.”

“Do we have any pressing engagements this morning?” Shiro asked, gripping a little tighter and nuzzling with a little more purpose.

“Just my _dick_ ,” Keith snorted, wrapping his arms around Shiro’s neck, thanking him for the set-up for a joke that never seemed to get old when proposing lazy morning sex.

“C’mere baby,” Shiro growled, heaving upward and taking Keith with him.

“Wait,” Keith started, looking gravely serious. “Let’s do it here. Over the couch.”

“But I wanna look at you,” Shiro didn’t whine, and he didn’t pout again either.

“And you know I love that, baby,” Keith promised. “I just want it good and hard from you this morning. I’ve been feeling irritated every time I watch the news lately and it would do me a lot of good if I felt you and your belly behind me, jackhammering the Weltschmerz out of me, you know?”

Shiro’s stomach performed an impressive acrobatics act, his biggest turn-on being an honest, sincere Keith who always seemed to know exactly what to say.

Walking around the couch, Shiro tried to set Keith down to made sure to get in a series of deep, throbbing kisses before he turned him around, but Keith stopped him by tightening the hold of his legs around his waist.

“A little longer,” Keith moaned, groping Shiro’s flexed biceps, running his hands over them. “You’re so strong,” he nipped Shiro’s ear and soothed over it with his tongue. “Love it how you can always just pick me up like I’m made of feathers.”

Finally, with one last searing kiss, Keith dropped to the ground and turned around, leaning his torso over the couch, bracing his arms there. A possessive urge rolled over Shiro, who firmly grabbed the back of Keith’s neck, massaging there with his thumb, then moving his hand to tangle his fingers in Keith’s long, inky black hair. He pressed himself against the back of Keith’s legs, grinding his length along the cleft of Keith’s ass through their clothes. The friction was fierce and incendiary, and Shiro groaned, bending over Keith and letting his belly and torso rest on Keith’s back.

“ _Ah_ ,” Keith chirped. Shiro supposed he really was into him carrying the extra weight. Who would have thought?

Reassured, Shiro tugged Keith’s leggings down his hips and pressed his thumb against Keith’s entrance, pushing and rubbing with just enough pressure to get Keith to speak up and tell him to _hurry_. Shiro slipped away to grab lube and a condom to save them from the mess, returning with a sense of urgency that Keith appreciated, having started with in his own finger in impatience.

Watching Keith work himself open for a moment, Shiro took over, gently batting Keith’s hands away.

“I’ve got you,” he sighed.

“You always do,” he replied.

Keith fell apart under Shiro’s hands, his moans and sighs like a spring breeze that promised a sweltering summer. He worked him until he was begging for Shiro’s cock, and Shiro, a Pisces, was happy to oblige. Shiro pulled himself from his pants and rolled the condom on, giving himself a few quick strokes to soothe the hungry ache.

Sliding in slowly, he held still for a moment, running one hand through Keith’s hair, tracing little circles into Keith’s hips with the other. 

“Shiro,” Keith rasped. “I’m ready.”

Shiro set a slow pace to start, stoking a quaking fire in his navel and in Keith. They fell into an easy rhythm between the two of them, like a song they both knew the words to. Recalling Keith’s request, Shiro leaned over until his gut prodded Keith’s back and began to quicken his speed. Keith yelped and tightened his grip on the couch, letting himself be rocked by the movement. His moans grew in frequency and pitch as Shiro incited him, prodded him where he was most sensitive.

As he listened to their noises, it hit Shiro that Keith knew all the ways around Shiro’s insecurities, all the back alleys and shortcuts that could snake around them and sneak past them. This was Keith’s way of helping Shiro out to remind him that he was still strong, still sexy, no matter what time threatened to do to either of them. Fondness surged in him like a fountain, and he let it fill him to the brim with devotion to the man he’d promised his life to. With this in mind, Shiro wrapped a hand tightly into Keith’s hair and thrusted hard, knocking him and Keith alike over the edge.

“ _Yes_ ,” Keith keened, elbows buckling under his weight. He sighed into a relaxed position, elongated himself over the arm of the couch, catching his breath. Shiro did the same from behind him, stepping into the bathroom to grab a washcloth. Tenderly, he cleaned Keith up and yanked him back into his leggings, taking him in his arms and hugging him tightly.

“I love you,” Shiro kissed into his hair. “Thank you.”

“You’re my number one,” Keith whispered, eyes aglow. 

Gravitating to where the caffeine was, Shiro and Keith made their place in the kitchen. Shiro presented Keith with a cup of pour-over coffee while Keith grilled flapjacks. They sat at the counter and ate, talked about what to do with their day.

“I have to go to the post office,” Keith explained. “And we need a new light bulb for the bathroom. Gotta get food for Kosmo, too.”

“Sounds good,” Shiro nodded. “Maybe we could pick up a few things for dinner? I’ve got curry on the brain.” 

“Sounds good,” Keith echoed. 

Comfortable silence settled over the kitchen and the loudest thing became the stack of three extra pancakes that sat between them. Shiro’s plate was clear, while Keith’s still had a bite or two left on it, soggy with syrup. Leaving a few remaining bites was the universal symbol for “it was simply too much food to handle this time around” whereas an empty plate could mean one of two things: “I’m just being polite,” or, of course, “I still have room.” Shiro wondered if Keith could guess that his current ideology was more aligned with the latter. He probably could.

Keith could.

“Still have room?” He asked as though reading his thoughts, dragging the stack of extra flapjacks over. Shiro nodded, watching as Keith took one and placed it on Shiro’s plate, pouring a generous helping of syrup over it. “Open wide,” Keith said, his eyes glittering with something positively nefarious as he loaded up a fork with a bite. Shiro opened wide.

“Man,” Shiro said while chewing. “If I had known you were into this I would’ve done something about it ages ago. Years of turning down Hunk’s cooking for what? Nothing,” Shiro laughed, poking Keith in his stomach to see how he liked it (he hoped he liked it).

“I just like it when you’re happy,” Keith didn’t deny. “Food makes people happy.”

Shiro didn’t disagree with Keith either, but he did take Keith’s hand that didn’t have the fork in it and guided it to his stomach, watching him flush consequently. “Sure,” Shiro teased. “Whatever you say baby.”

Keith gave Shiro’s stomach a cursory rub, then a ginger squeeze, then a big jiggle.

“You’re so cute,” Shiro laughed.

“That’s you,” Keith said, his voice quiet, a little embarrassed.

Having polished off the first of the remaining pancakes, Keith and Shiro looked at the plate that had two left.

“We can throw those in the fridge. Unless you have space?”

Lucky for Keith, Shiro had space.

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/ranchboiii)


End file.
